


Trouble

by misspoptart



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Bondage, Dirty Talk, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Gratuitous Smut, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-11 13:06:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10465713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misspoptart/pseuds/misspoptart
Summary: Jyn Erso has been sleeping her way across the galaxy for both fun and survival. Up until now, no one has ever been able to tie her down... literally OR figuratively. Perhaps there really is something different about him. Takes place during the events of Rogue One, potentially with some past events.





	

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the day that Jyn arrives on Yavin IV and she has no idea what's in store. All she knows is that she is sick and tired of waiting.

As usual, I woke up with a jolt. Again, I was unfamiliar with my surroundings, but at least I was alone in my prison cell. But from what I knew, prison cells didn’t typically have warm, comfortable beds. They didn’t serve breakfast either. And trust me, I had been in a lot of prison cells. 

“Shit,” I said, audibly annoyed.

My head was pounding. I rubbed my forehead, replaying the previous day’s events in my head. The memories came rushing back, as they often did. It had been the same as today, except that after I had woken up with a jolt and realized I was in unfamiliar surroundings, I noticed a guy in the prison cell with me—one I had no intention of fucking. The two of us were moved into a land transport vehicle of some kind. We were being moved. For what purpose, I won’t even begin to guess. Then there was a new man sitting across from me, one I briefly considered making a move on. But our restraints would have been a problem.

Then someone ambushed us. I thought I had a chance to make a break for it, but that fucking droid got in the way. He had told me I was being “rescued.”

I glanced around the dimly lit cell—room—chamber—whatever the hell it was. The breakfast looked appealing, but it was cold. I wondered, briefly, how long the meal had been sitting there, then picked up the fork and started devouring it anyway. I hadn’t eaten a thing in days. I was famished.

On the wall next to the bed a rebel alliance flag was pinned up haphazardly. There was also a map, with the words “Yavin IV” written across the top header. “Rescued” by the rebellion? After what they had put me and Saw through, they were the last people in the galaxy that I wanted to be around. _That said,_ I thought to myself, _I’m in no danger here._

People liked to say that the rebels were fighting for a good cause, but I’d never seen any noble acts carried out by rebel soldiers. They were terrorists, just like the rest of us. Not to mention that a few of the men I’d slept with from the alliance were absolute dickheads. After the last guy refused to go down on me, I had decided that there was no difference between a rebel and an imperial soldier. Not in a fight, and not in the bedroom.

It wasn’t long before I realized that I had zero fucking privacy: the far wall of the room was glass, and people walking past could plainly see me scarfing down the food. Nonetheless, they barely even shot me a glance. Further out was a hangar, full to brim with activity; pilots, rebel ships, droids. I must have been in some kind of waiting room, but waiting for what, I didn’t know. And I really needed to take a piss.

I got up from the bed, walked over to the glass, and promptly began pounding on it. “Hello? HELLO? HEY! Who’s in charge of me!?” No response came. Irritated, I began to do what I always did when I wanted attention: I got myself into trouble.

There was a specific pilot, leaning on a pile of stacked cargo, about 25 yards away. If I could just catch his eye, I was sure I could get him to come over and entertain me. I had nearly perfected the damsel in distress act, and when that wasn’t working, I was a very convincing flirt.

We made eye contact and he immediately looked down, attempting to pretend he hadn’t noticed me. I waited. I watched as he whispered something to another pilot, cupping the side of his mouth. And then, finally, he looked up at me. I turned my head to the left and cast my eyes downward, ever slightly. He approached. I lifted my head to make eye contact, and then smiled.

He had darker features, and a slightly malicious, distrustful look. Calculating eyes. A scowl, even. It was almost as if he didn’t want to be there. A reluctant fighter, I supposed. I won’t deny that he was attractive and intriguing. I wondered if a man like him would suspect a ruse, but I tried my luck anyway. My bladder left me no choice.

“I just need to use the toilet,” I said, as genuinely as possible. I wasn’t lying, so it shouldn’t have been that hard to look honest. It just was, for some reason.

“I’m sure I could get authorization for that,” he replied coyly, in the most interesting of accents. “But I’d have to escort you.”

I accepted the offer with a quick nod, well aware of the possible implications. The glass door opened, and I held my hands out in a show of obedience. “Aren’t you going to bind them?”

He narrowed his eyes and smirked. “It’s not really as fun if you don’t resist. But yes. I am.”

He cuffed my hands with no finesse whatsoever, employing the classic roughness I’d seen among rebel pilots. He held up his comlink and said, “Requesting permission to take guest to the toilet.”

“Granted,” a female voice replied. “Exercise caution.”

He began walking, with me a few paces behind. “Hmm,” my escort mumbled, turning to look back at me. “Seems like you’re a dangerous one. There’s all sorts of noise around here about you.”

I was silent, instead taking in the sights and sounds of what I now gathered was a rebel base. Not as impressive as the rumors said it would be, but something to behold nonetheless. It surprised me how diverse the rebels were: young and old, human and alien, male and female. Where I had grown up, female soldiers were the norm. However, having never seen a female imperial soldier (although my mother insisted they existed), I’d just as much figured that there weren’t any female rebels, either.

We had arrived at the toilet. I looked at the pilot, who I now expected was, judging by his garb, not a pilot at all, but some other higher up at the base. He nodded, signaling that it was okay for me to go in.

“Two minutes,” he asserted, removing my restraints.

I walked in, sat down, and sighed. What a relief, to be alone behind a closed door. I wondered how long I might stay on Yavin IV, and whether or not I’d be offered a change of clothes. It wasn’t plausible for me to join the rebels, but in those two minutes, I considered my options. On the plus side, I’d surely have access to a whole new range of interesting weapons. On the negative side, I’d have to follow orders. For the time being, however, I was weighing the real opportunity of having sex with an actually hot guy, in a completely random fucking place, without giving two shits about the consequences. Sounded like my kind of afternoon. Was it even afternoon, though?

A knock on the door. I jumped up and looked in the mirror, taking a good, long look at myself. I was pretty, but unrefined. A little bruised from yesterday’s events, but sexy nonetheless.

Another knock. “Time’s up.”

“Coming,” I shouted, filling my hands with cold water, splashing it on my face, and quickly drying off with a towel. The bathroom, I noticed was perfectly clean, well-lit, but mildewy. Probably from all the humidity outside.

Suddenly, the door swung open. I watched in the mirror as the rebel waltzed in, slammed the door closed, locked it, and turned to face me. 

“I couldn’t wait,” he said breathily, showing a clearly uncharacteristic lack of restraint. 

I was so turned on, but tried not to show it. I slowly and deliberately turned around, though it was difficult to take my eyes off of his reflection. With one stride he was within an arm’s reach of me. Carefully, gently, he took my wrists in his hands and began to restrain me again. 

“Are you sure about this?” My face was solemn, but my heart was racing. 

His hands began to travel up my arms. To my shoulders. To my neck.

I stood there, paralyzed, incapacitated, stunned. I could feel the blood rushing between my legs, the anticipation of being ravaged and used. The pleasure it would give me, the power I would feel to know I had triggered this response from a normally disciplined man. 

He pulled my head toward his and we began to kiss. He pressed his body against mine, and I fumbled to brace myself. Unable to use my hands, I ended up sitting in the fucking sink. I was blown away; his scent, his aggression, his dominance.

“You fucking slut,” he whispered in my ear between heavy breaths. “Look what you do to me…”

His voice was so intoxicating. I closed my eyes and let my head fall back, exposing my jawline and collarbone for him to glide his mouth and tongue over.

He was hot, frantic even, with desire and desperation. I didn’t protest; I let him do what he wanted with my body; putting his hands everywhere he could, feeling his way through to my breasts, to my stomach, to my waist, down to… 

I was dripping wet by the time he slid his fingers in. Under normal circumstances, I would have begged him to fuck me already. It was only supposed to be a few minutes, and it felt as though we had been locked in that room for hours. Days, maybe.

But seeing his slow descent into euphoria and basking in the inevitability of it all was just too satisfying for me. I let him take his time. I suppose a part of me also hoped that he would never finish. 

Inserting a second and third finger, he let out a long and labored groan. Thrusting in, gradually pulling out. 

I wanted so badly for him to take my clothes off, but perhaps he perceived the inconvenience of getting dressed again, or worse, being caught naked by some poor fuck who figured out what was going on. If we were doing this, it was going to be with as much clothes on as possible. He pulled my pants down to just below my ass, and then pulled his down in the same fashion. For the first time, I saw his dick: medium in length, wide in girth. 

And fully erect. Just the way I liked it.

Hands still bound, I fell down to my knees and reached for it instinctively, stuffing as much of his dick in my mouth as I possible could. Tongue up one side, tongue down the other. A little suction at the tip, maintained as I bobbed my head up and down. I so eagerly wanted to hear another moan.

He pulled my hair to the point of pain, and I took a sharp breath. My only wish was that he would pull a little harder.

He was setting the pace for me. “Do it one more time, slut, do it again. Again. Again. Dirty, fucking, criminal you are.” 

With each word, I drew him in and shoved him down my throat. But without the use of my hands, I could tell it wouldn’t be enough pressure for him. I lied down on the floor, mouth open, and let him face fuck me.

He fingered me while thrusting; I was choking, I was crying, I was orgasming in the most delightful of ways.

He tensed up, his dick swelled, and I felt it coming; the liquid bursting in my mouth, the warmth of him filling my throat. He held my head against his stomach and cried out with a mix of pleasure and anguish. 

When I felt him becoming soft, I licked the rest of it off, nibbled the flaccid skin a little, and promptly asked him for a towel. 

"What's your name, anyway?" he mumbled.

"Liana. Liana Hallik," I lied.

“Okay, Liana," he said, helping me up. "You won’t tell anyone about this." I stood there, unsurprised. The rebel buttoned his pants first, then mine. He washed his hands, smoothed out his hair in the mirror, and walked toward the door. “And we will never see each other again.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoy my interpretation of Jyn & Cassian, which admittedly bends their characters a wee bit, but like most fic writes, I think my headcannon is highly plausible.
> 
> This is my first fic posted to Ao3 (I'm a long time FF user under the same username), so if I have done anything ragingly amateur just give me a shout. Feedback and constructive criticism welcome!
> 
> Otherwise, enjoy! More to come depending on reader interest :)


End file.
